


unfamiliar territory: or, three pauses on the way to a new family

by lalaietha



Category: Blade (Movie Series)
Genre: Adoption, Domestic, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha/pseuds/lalaietha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After DayStar works, Abigail, Hannibal and Zoë are left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unfamiliar territory: or, three pauses on the way to a new family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alyse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyse/gifts).



Larry Bergman spread the papers out on the table and got his Serious Face on. "So," he said, folding his hands in front of him. "Shall we start?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Hannibal could see Abby restraining an eye-roll. For his part, Hannibal liked Larry, the semi-official NightStalker lawyer and all around mostly-normal-person. Larry was serious, dependable, honest, totally reliable and completely sincere, and Hannibal liked that in other people, since he totally had none of those qualities himself.

Abby just found it seriously annoying.

"Adoption is a serious process," Larry informed them, seriously. "It's involved and especially when you're not legally the blood family of the child in question, the hoops can get seriously complex. I mean, to start with," he said, and looked down, shuffling his papers, "it would make it a lot easier for both of you to adopt if you were actually married."

Hannibal glanced at Abby, who cleared her throat, throwing him to the wolves. "Uh," he said, and Larry looked up. "We already did that."

Larry blinked. Then Larry blinked again. Then, clearly feeling his chances at the International Owl-eye Competition could only be improved by practice, he blinked a few more times. " . . . when?"

Abby cleared her throat. "The last time Hannibal was actually in the hospital I . . . " she trailed off and Hannibal finished for her.

"She nearly got arrested for death threats at the nurse who said she couldn't actually be there after visiting hours because she wasn't family," he said, keeping in cheerful just for the subdued death-glare it got him from Abigail's side of the table.

"I remember that," Larry said, with a sigh. Abigail managed to look more uncomfortable. Hannibal shrugged.

"After that we figured it'd just be simpler to have the piece of paper."

Larry narrowed his eyes, which were already pretty narrow to start with. "You never told me," he said, and his voice was a little accusing. "Or gave me copies of the paperwork."

Hannibal glanced at Abigail. Abigail went for first place in the Table Examining Championships. Larry sighed, and moved a piece of paper.

"Very well," he said, "get me copies of that and it will simplify things. Step two." He paused, took a deep breath, and then said, "It would also be easier if one or both of you had a full-time job."

This time, Hannibal and Abigail both stared blankly.

 

****

 

"I don't know how to do this." The admission cost a bit - there wasn't a lot Abigail was willing to admit she couldn't do - but it was just Hannibal and they were both slightly drunk and fuck, he'd find out soon enough anyway.

Hannibal looked at her a bit owlishly, because he was way drunker than she was. "Which 'this' are we talking about? Because I'm pretty sure you can drink vodka."

Abigail rolled her eyes and dropped onto the couch beside his feet, bottle held against her breastbone. "Yes, you moron," she said, kind of affectionately. "I meant raising a kid."

She felt pretty sure that Hannibal had a smart answer for that, but to his credit, he sat on it. And got the expression he wore when he was trying to think through alcohol. "Weellll," he said, drawing out the word, "don't think of it like that."

"Like what?" Abigail leaned forward, poured herself some more vodka, put the bottle down on the battered coffee table and drank too much of the alcohol at once.

"Like, like 'raising kids'," Hannibal said, gesturing with his glass to emphasize his point. "Or, like, even one kid. It's not raising a _kid_. It's looking after Zoë. Totally different."

"Zoë is a kid," Abigail pointed out.

"Yeah, but she's _Zoë_ ," Hannibal countered. "You're overthinking this. You've been looking after Zoë forever."

"With her mom." Abigail stared at the transparent drink in her glass.

"I should stop letting you drink," Hannibal muttered. "You get all broody when you drink, it's like you turn into Blade."

After thinking about that through the vodka for a second, Abigail kicked at the nearest of his legs, propped up on the coffee table. "Take that back," she demanded. She put her glass down beside the couch on the other side.

"Take what back?" he asked, and she shifted so she could punch him in the arm.

"I am _not_ like Blade. Take it back."

"Then stop acting like everything's the end of the world!"

In the mess that ensued, both Abigail's drink and the bottle ended up emptying themselves onto the floor. Hannibal's remaining vodka ended up mostly on him.

In the morning, Hannibal went out to rent a steam-cleaner so the adoption inspection people didn't come into an apartment where the carpet smelled like a frat-house after a party.

 

****

 

The temporary foster-lady hadn't been bad, really. Still, Zoë flew out of the car and threw herself at Abby as fast as she could, throwing her arms around Abby's neck when Abby caught her and holding on tight.

"Hey kid," Abby said, holding her up with one arm and stroking her hair with the other. Zoë could hear Hannibal talking to Mrs Ling, being friendly and funny and sounding like Hannibal, and everything felt a little bit less wrong. Abby shifted Zoë to one hip and said, "You got everything?"

Zoë nodded.

"Okay," Abigail said. "Say good bye to Mrs Ling."

Zoë waved instead of saying anything, but Mrs Ling smiled and waved back and got into her car.

Hannibal reached over to mess up Zoë's hair. "You okay, squirt?"

"I want to go home," Zoë said, the only answer she could think of. Abby shifted her again.

"Home's an apartment now," Abby told her. "But we got as much of your stuff that wasn't broken as we could."

"I'm having bad dreams," Zoë said, feeling like she was admitting to doing something bad. Hannibal gave her a sort of half-hug around the shoulders because Abby was still holding her up.

"That happens sometimes," he said. "I have bad dreams. Just last night I dreamed I was Wile E Coyote and . . . " then he trailed off and finished, "well, it wasn't much fun."

Abby shook her head. "Come on, guys. Let's go get pizza and go home."

"Hey," Hannibal added, as he helped Zoë into her booster-seat in the SUV, "did you know Abigail's going to be a _bouncer?_ She's going to throw jerks out of clubs!"

"At least it's not retail," Abby said. "Unlike some people."

"Hey, I'm good at selling stuff," Hannibal protested.

"Yeah, like snake-oil and shit," Abby snorted.

"Watch your language," Hannibal said. "There's a kid in the car."

Zoë gave him a pitying look, but she already felt a little better. "I've heard worse words than _that_ ," she said, folding her arms.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, chucking her chin a little. "Just don't use them around other grownups."

Zoë rolled her eyes. "I _know_."

Then Abby was telling Hannibal to shut up and get in the SUV, and Zoë settled back to wait for home.


End file.
